Title: Grave Memories
Summary: Mac's mind cannot let go of Victor's words about his father dying; forcing him to delve into grave memories he had tried to forget. Stella lends some loving comfort after the tough personal case and a personal secret is revealed between them. SMACKED based on eppy 6.02 'Gravedigger'
Disclaimer: I don't own Mac Taylor but I wish I did (course then I'd have no time for writing)!
A/N: So I'm sure you know what Alice was channeling when we decided to write an eppy about cancer *sigh* sorry guys, we will get back to the fluffier stuff but it's real life right? Hope this isn't too morbid, but I also tried to keep it light. And yeah actually found that I hadn't written for this eppy yet so better late than never right? Oh and yummy Mac in uniform was a nice memory *sigh*
Thanks as always in advance.
~Note: words in italics and "double quotes" directly from the eppy~
'What was it like…watching your father die?'
Despite the fact that the case had ended hours earlier, Mac wasn't able to get Victor Benton's aka Gravedigger's haunting words out of his head. During the case, despite the painful taunts from Victor, Mac had prided himself on being able to put professional protocol first and shelve his emotions, but now...alone in his office with only the silence to keep him company those words come back to torment his mind; forcing painful memories to flourish and he fears the night ahead will be fraught with misery and heartache if spent alone. It was the same feeling he has now as he had when he left Victor in the hospital; an emotional kick in the gut that left him feeling empty and fragile after Victor forced him to remember his dying father's few personal times with him.
Stella finishes up her paperwork and then slowly heads for Mac's office, her anxiety picking up the pace as she nears his open door. Mac had confessed to her during the case that Victor Benton's murderous rampage that he had picked Mac to talk to because of what Mac's father had gone through, hoping for some kind of sympathetic connection with the noble ex-marine. But she knew immediately that Mac would not be swayed by sentimental notions; his father never would have ingrained that in his son. The law came first; and Mac never sympathised with a murderer much less would consider breaking the law to help his father as Gravedigger had suggested he would.
"You would have done anything to get your father that help...even broken the law...to help your father live one more day."
"You don't know me."
She reaches Mac's doorway and sees him slightly slumped over a file, his shoulders tense and left fist curled tightly. Mac was a private man that rarely showed emotions in public, but she knew by his guarded posture that he was hurting; that Gravedigger's words had affected him more than he would admit openly. But there was also something more, something he hated to acknolwedge, how easily accessible his and everyone else's lives were to outsiders. And she knew he hated feeling vulnerable to a stranger.
"You served in the gulf war...then joined the NYPD after a distinguished military career..."
It was so easy how the killer was able to get all his personal information. And it wasn't just the way he killed his victims but how he gathered their personal information and used it against them. However, it was the personal details about his father that bothered him more. And that is what was eating away at him even now.
"I want to talk about your father...served in the army during World War II and then served as a machinist on the south side of Chicago. Tell me how he died. Be precise."
It wasn't the question that bothered Mac, but the fact that some madman was taking sordid pleasure in forcing him to relive those memories and for no other reason than to see the look of pain on his face from his cowardly hiding spot; hidden behind the veiled mask of the security camera. That and he wanted Mac's sympathy, something he'd never get either.
"Hey," she says, softly knocking on the door frame, prompting Mac to look up with a strained expression.
"Just finishing up. You?"
"Same," she states as she slowly walks into his office and slides down into a chair facing him.
Mac finishes his sentence and then looks up in wonder. "Something else?"
"You tell me," Stella replies seriously.
"Not that I am aware of."
"Mac I know you pride yourself on keeping your emotions in check but this is me and you know you can tell me right? What's bothering you? I know it's about the case."
"You mean about what he said about my father?" Mac asks softly as he looks back down and continues writing. But when he gets only silence in return, a tactic of hers to keep him talking, he looks up; falling into her trap. "It's okay Stella, it's over now."
"Don't do this Mac."
"Do what?"
"Pretend that his words didn't affect you. Sit here and act like this was just another case. Tell yourself that memories aren't now coming to the surface that are causing you pain."
"Stella..."
"I know you would offer no sympathy to anyone who takes the law into their own hands, much less takes a life for selfish reasons. But I also know you are human and I know your father's health is one of the topics you never bring up. I know it hurt."
"You seem to know the facts, what more is there to say," Mac frowns as he looks back down. However, his writing is quickly stopped by Stella's fingers on his, forcing his actions to cease and his eyes to raise and lock with hers once more; but her silence forces him to continue, confessing some feelings about a man that brought up painful memories. "Benton was a coward, my father wasn't. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"I want you to put down the pen before you break it and spray me with ink for starters," Stella mentions gently and Mac's fight fist slightly unfurls. "Better. Mac you can't sit here and tell me it didn't affect you when I know it did. You might be able to fool that lunatic or our team but you know you cannot fool me."
"Just never expected to hear someone ask me to...well to be talk about details about how he died. Some...stranger."
"It must have been very difficult for you."
"Was hard on all of us."
"But mostly for you...profile the Times did on you a few years back. In it you mentioned your father was your hero...the reason you joined the military and eventually went into law enforcement."
"His words were meant to taunt and intimidate," Mac confesses with a heavy sigh. "Bully even. He thought his words would taunt me enough to force me to agree with him."
"But instead they hurt right?"
"Your hero spent the last eight months of his life in bed on a feeding tube! Not a very dignified way to end a life, don't you think?"
"They did hurt," Mac admits sadly.
"We will talk again...until then you think about your father."
Mac lets out a heavy sigh, puts the pen all the way down and then leans back in his chair; a sad faraway look growing in his warm sapphires. He looks back at Stella with a small frown and a weary gaze.
"Today I missed him," Mac offers in a tone that instantly breaks her heart. "Part of me wishes I had never listened to him."
"In what way?" Stella gently prods.
"We just got married dad...was thinking maybe we'd move back to Chicago..."
"There is no need for you to be here. I've had a good life...now you need to live yours."
"Dad..."
"Promise me...promise...you'll make the call...promise."
"I promise."
"When he told me to go to New York with Claire…start a family and live my life," Mac pauses, his eyes cast downward again as his fingers absently fiddle with a nearby paperclip. He feels Stella's penetrating gaze on him and looks back up. "I shouldn't have promised, shouldn't have listened. Maybe if I had stayed life would be…"
"Better?"
"Different," he ponders thoughtfully. "I always listened to him, I wish just once I hadn't. I wish I had been there."
"Mac you were there, at the end."
"At the very end," Mac quickly corrects. "Not the months leading up to it; just a few weeks. In that way I always feel like I had failed him."
Stella watches him lean back and offer a slight smirk. "What is it?" She's quick to ask.
"I know if I had even contemplated doing something illegal to help my father he would have arrested me himself. Benton was a coward…my father wasn't."
"My father died courageously, with his family around him, looking up to him."
"Do you ever feel like the system failed your family or your father? Ever feel the hatred and anger that Benton did?"
"Who doesn't feel that way when you watch someone you love die? Of course you want to blame…well everyone else but the person and their own inborn frailties. My father had cancer; his doctor didn't give it to him, nor did the 'system' as Benton wanted to blame."
"Benton was afraid to face reality."
"Well he'll face it until the end now," Mac states with a hint of disdain in his tone as he picks up his pen. "Glad the case is closed."
Stella looks at him and knows that right now Mac was done talking about his father and the case; but the memories had already surfaced and were going away anytime soon. She needs a change of venue to help him get past this.
"So you want to get a drink or something?" Stella asks softly, noticing his fist quickly furl and his posture tighten once again. But she knows that as soon as she leaves, the resentment will once again start to fester inside if he doesn't talk out the rest of whatever is bothering him. But was work the place to press for an emotional confession? Even she knew that wasn't the best battlefield to attack Mac Taylor's shield on; she needed neutral ground – his home.
"Actually I think I'm going to finish this up and call it a night. Another time?" He asks with some regret.
"Sure," Stella gives him a warm smile before she stands up and then heads around to his side of the desk, leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Call me if you need…anything."
"Thank you," Mac offers softly. He watches her leave and then leans back in his chair once again; his father's face immediately coming to the fore.
'I don't have to go right now Sir…I can…'
'Dad...Mac call me dad.'
"Dad," Mac echoes, feeling his throat instantly seize and his eyes wanting to water. He gives himself a small curse, shakes his head and then tries to get back to writing up the rest of his report; but to no avail, Gravedigger's words keep coming back to haunt him.
'What was it like…watching your father die?'
Knowing that his attempts would be in vain, Mac puts down the pen, closes the file and then heads for the door, grabbing his suit jacket; the elevator his next stop. He waits in the quiet hallway, now regretting that he hadn't taken Stella up on that drink offer as he wasn't really wanting to go home alone to nothing but silence or memories; he told her just out of habit, instinct. Maybe it was time to break that habit? Could always stop by her place, his brain reminds him. She is your best friend and wouldn't mind in the least.
So with that thought in his mind, Mac gives the cabbie Stella's address and heads toward the opposite side of the city from where he lives. He leans back in the cab, his mind replaying the first thought he had when Victor Benton mentioned his father's illness; that being part of the reason he had chosen Mac. He feels his core tighten as he once again relives another sad memory and wonders if Stella will even want him around in such an emotionally lost frame of mind. She cares Mac, his brain states warmly. She'll want to help.
Mac reaches Stella's place and quickly darts in when someone else comes out and slowly starts to climb the few flights of stairs, wanting to wear off some angry adrenaline that the Gravedigger's actions had forced to course through his veins. He reaches Stella's floor with a flushed face, taking a few deep breaths before he pushes onward, reaching her door and softly knocking.
"Mac?" Stella asks in surprise as she opens the door and views her partner standing before her with a sad expression. "Are you okay?"
"I uh…well just wanted to take you up on that drink offer. I can wait while you change."
"Actually, why don't you come in…" she steps forward and offers her hand; an emotional lifeline being extended. He grasps it and holds on, the last vestige he feels before he would be tugged into the emotional mire and allows her to lead him into her apartment. "I have a small roast in the oven that is almost done and have just uncorked a fresh bottle of dry merlot. It's free and the atmosphere is private."
"Sounds perfect and I would love a glass thank you," Mac replies as he slowly removes his suit jacket and then follows her into the kitchen; his anxiety slowly subsiding. "Smells delicious."
"It's the fresh garlic," Stella muses as she hands him a glass of dark red wine. "We have about twenty minutes yet, let's wait in the living room."
"I'm not putting you out am I?"
"You can make it up to me," she teases, forcing a small smile to crack his once placid expression. They both slowly sit down on the couch, glasses in hand, bodies touching and heat starting to grow.
"I try so hard to keep my sorrow in check; but even now, after all this time, it hurts like I was at the funeral only hours ago."
"I can't imagine Mac...what it was like," Stella tells him truthfully; never being able admit that she would know the personal loss of a beloved parent.
"Sorry," Mac says softly.
"Why be sorry? You're the one hurting right now. That is why you are here and that is why I am here. Just talk to me."
"I remember the day my mother told me."
'McCanna I um…it's about your father…oh god…'
'Mom what is it?'
'It's about your father. He has been diagnosed with cancer…small cell lung cancer and it's um…'
'Mom?'
'Terminal.'
'But how...'
'I...I don't know.'
"Her words were so…so final."
"I'm sorry Mac," Stella says softly, her free hand lacing with his and holding it tightly; generating heat between them.
"I think what made me angriest the most about Benton's words, were not his petty taunts as I know that no matter what I wouldn't broken the law to prove a point; but it was the pain that I had tried to keep at bay all these years that was nothing more than a talking point to him."
"And he just forced those memories to resurface," Stella notes in a sad tone, her frown mirroring that of her partners.
"When I was younger, I remember thinking to myself and even telling others around me that my dad was my hero, the strongest man I had ever known and nothing bad would ever happen to him. He had faced so many personal and of course physical battles during wars and stuff but…damn it Stella, cancer. It beat him in the end. He wasn't that strong. But even now...he'll always be my hero."
"His strength survives through you Mac, you'll never let that die. And he would have been proud of you today. You didn't give in to emotion or petty anger, you kept true to the facts of the case and weren't swayed by misguided sentimentality."
"Does that make me insensitive?"
"Hardly," she answers in haste. "If anything it shows your true strength. I know personally it wouldn't have been easy for him to be dangling your father's fate before you like it was nothing; like it was just an event to toss out there and see what kind of lame ass reaction he could get."
"Lame ass?" Mac arches his brows, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"It's a technical term Mac, it's okay if you don't get it," she teases in return, offering him a kind smile.
"Life is very fragile and precious," Mac suddenly offers. "If anything, my father's, and also Claire's death has proven that time isn't on our side and that what we waste we never get back. He said that to me."
"Who?"
"Benton."
"What? What did he say?"
"I blame genetics. Something you should think about when making long term plans."
"Mac? It was that moment in your office right? When I came in with the list, just before Danny interrupted us, what did he say?"
"Nothing more than..."
"Mac."
"He alluded to the fact that my life too could be taken the way my father's was; in an undignified way to an enemy we can't beat. He was looking for a reaction. I never gave him one."
Stella reaches out and grasps his hand, clutching it tightly, the words affecting her as well. She looks at him in sorrow and frowns. I can't lose you Mac, she whispers in her mind.
"But I...well I don't dwell on that. If anything he did force me to appreciate that life shouldn't be taken for granted or wasted."
"Do you feel like you wasted anything?"
"Do you?" Mac counters, anxiety and pain now flashing up in his sapphire discs.
"A few things," Stella confesses in truth. "You?"
"The same I guess," Mac concedes as he takes another sip of his wine. "Even watching him die never gave me closure," Mac huffs. "I kept telling myself that any time now, he's going to get up and tell us all this was a joke just for sympathy. Course I knew that wasn't the truth, I was also practical about it but…"
"But inside your heart you weren't ready to let go. When it comes to the death of a loved one, are we ever ready to let go?" Stella asks gently.
"No," Mac whispers, his fingers closing tightly around hers as he tries to funnel a surge of emotion through his weary system. "Death is unnatural."
"That is why, even now, after all these years, it still hurts inside."
Mac looks at her and offers her a small smile. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here, for listening…for being you and being in my life."
"You are more than welcome," she answers truthfully. "It's what we do Mac."
"But it shouldn't take an event such as this to force those sentiments."
"Well it's usually in the face of grave circumestances that we do realize just how short and precious life is and who we are blessed with in life."
"And the rest of the time?"
"We are all just a bunch of selfish bastards," Stella chuckles, causing Mac's lips to offer a small nervous laugh at the same time. "I guess we shouldn't let it get that far huh," she ponders.
"If we are with someone and then...lose that person tomorrow, how many regrets would we have?" Mac adds.
"Such as if we cared about them…more than a friend?" Stella arches her brows in wonder.
"And never told them…and then lost them…" Mac's voice dies out.
"And we lost the chance to tell them," Stella concludes quietly as they both look at each other at the same time. "What are you saying Mac?"
"I do care about you Stella, more than a friend," he confesses as he leans in closer. "I just didn't want to scare you away."
"You never could," she whispers as she too closes the gap; their lips now inches apart. She bypasses his mouth and instead plants a kiss on his cheek. "I care about you too Mac, more than a friend," she whispers in his ear before kissing his cheek once more and then pulling back.
"Come here," she entreats, pulling his head onto her shoulder as her fingers start to just massage his shoulder. "You are tense."
"Stress," he sighs as he shifts himself into a more comfortable position. He closes his eyes, delighting in the feel of Stella's touch and feels the pounding in his head from all the painful memories starting to ease.
"Seeing you sad and in pain Mac, makes me sad."
"Stella…"
"I'm not upset; I'm happy you are here to share this with me."
"I'm happy I'm here too," Mac admits in truth.
'I just want you to be happy son.'
Mac allows those loving words of his fathers to dance in his head the longer his and Stella's bodies were pressed up against each other. The timer on the stove finally goes, signally that dinner was ready and it was time to move; however, the promise of another heartfelt discussion would be calling to them after their meal was over.
Mac stands up first, holds out his hand and then pulls Stella up into his grasp, holding her close as their hearts start to race as once. Without saying a word, he leans in, gently brushing her lips with his, allowing the electrical spark to enflame his core a few seconds longer before he pulls back and offers her a small frown.
"I wish he could have met you," Mac admits with a small amount of torment in his tone.
"He has…through you," she whispers, her mind delighting in the feel of him holding her close. "Dinner time."
"Stella…" Mac starts to utter a small protest, prompting Stella to gently push her thumb to his lips.
"My turn to take care of you for once."
Mac gives her a nod and they finally break apart and head for the kitchen. As Stella watches him carrying two plates back to the table and then pause as he turns back to look at her with a tender glance, she knows inside her heart that his grave memories while they would still be there would be countered with loving ones; and with her help and love, all the negative would be replaced with new positive memories; new memories they were about to make together.
THE END!
A/N: Okay so how was that? Hopefully not to angsty but it was an angsty subject right? Hope you all liked it and please leave a review before you go and thanks again. More SMACKED to come! :D have a great weekend everyone, see you Monday.